The Tyrant Child
by goblinesque
Summary: Some villains aren't the villains that history paints them to be, some heroes aren't heroes at all. Some wars are fought within yourself. Political coups, death, revenge, and love are contained within Isabelle's last year walking this world. Sequel to The Loving Child. Must read both The Lost Child & The Loving Child to understand.
1. Famous For Killing Each Other

**Chapter 1: Famous For Killing Each Other**

**I'm back! :) I've decided to go ahead and write this story ahead of time. I'm going to write this story just like the very first one. **

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Timothy Harbinger sat uncomfortably in his wooden desk. His sandy brown hair fell into his eyes, slightly distorting his view of the board at the front of the class. At twelve, he had found that he had a love-hate relationship with history, and currently at the age of fifteen, he had found that it was more of a hate relationship than that of a loving one. He had always been one to grasp on to whatever piece of interesting tidbit about the American South he could, but he had never been too keen on learning about the history of other places, which is what he was tortured with in his current class. What did he care about the history of Vikings or of the Druids?

"Today, we are going to learn about something that took over the entire world," his young female teacher, with a nice set of legs and perfect breasts, said happily with a clap of her hands in front of her. It took everything in him to not become aroused whenever Ms. Hood would turn away from him and shake her body when she erased the lessons from the board.

"It happened in France," Ms. Hood informed cheerfully to her class, too cheerful for the last class of the day.

Timothy rolled his emerald green eyes finding that he was becoming more and more disinterested in whatever topic his teacher wished to discuss.

"Lame," he announced loudly, he had no problem telling his teacher exactly what he felt when it came to his history lessons. He wasn't afraid to correct his teachers or tell them what he thought on whatever subject, and since history was his favorite subject, he never censored himself.

"Well Timothy," his teacher announced as she pulled down the flimsy white projector paper, "I think that you will particularly like this lesson. It took over the whole South."

"What," he asked, a small smile slowly crossing his bored features, "the Civil War?"

"Sort of. It's a matter of opinion on what it should be referred to as," she informed him with a smile as she played with the small remote in her hand to turn the projector that hung from the ceiling on, "It's more of a modern day twist…and since today is Halloween, I thought it would be neat to learn about the more darker, supernatural history that has crept up on us in a more modern time."

"Vampires," an uppity brunette girl from the far side of the room complained with her snotty cohorts of mindless angst filled teenagers nodding their heads absently in agreement, "Haven't we heard enough of them? They are so early 2000s! Why can't we talk about werewolves or something more interesting?!"

"Because," Ms. Hood announced, "There has never been one werewolf that has changed history so remarkably as this one particular vampire, and she has set foot right here in Bon Temps, many years ago."

"She," Timothy asked, "How come I never heard about her?"

"Because you are sixteen," Ms. Hood informed him, "I doubt you are interested in politics just yet."

"We're watchin' the news," a boy from the back complained.

"Hey," another boy snapped in a thick Southern accent, "As long it isn't CNN I am fine, lying bunch of liberal bast-"

"It's an interview from 2013," Ms. Hood revealed as Timothy watched the news show paused upon the projector screen. He watched as his teacher walked back towards her desk in the back of the room and pressed play. His ears were gifted with a soft, feminine, well cultured voice that had a soft Southern lilt hidden within its folds.

He looked up to the screen to see a remarkably pale woman in a knee-length dark blue gown that sat darkly against her white skin that looked as if it hadn't seen the sun in almost a thousand years. The woman's eyes were the bluest that he had ever seen and were quite breathtaking. He knew immediately that she was a vampire, though he had no idea who this beautiful yet dangerous creature was that was staring back at him from the projector. He could see silver wrapping about her body, seemingly having no effect on her body, which he quickly found out of sync with everything that his parents and the media had told him about vampires.

"If you are just joining me," the talking head announced, "I am talking with the child of the notorious Russell Edgington and the vampire that was the author of the newly passed Vampire Rights Amendment," Timothy's ears perked up, he had heard that name before in whispered conversations from polite society and loud hate speeches from rednecks in the woods, "Isabelle Hensley. Now Mrs. Hensley-"

"Isabelle," she corrected with a smile as she crossed her legs, "I preferred to be just called Isabelle in polite conversation. That is," she stopped and smiled wickedly at the woman, "if you intend to keep this polite conversation."

"Yes," the woman answered quickly, "Just questions. I think the world really wants to know just who is Isabelle, the real Isabelle, the woman that defeated an entire vampire political system and established her own."

"I didn't defeat them," Isabelle answered with a smile and shrug of her shoulders, "I murdered them after they planned on killing innocent humans. They wanted to enslave humankind."

"So you did it for humankind," the woman asked, slightly perplexed.

"Yes," she answered with a large smile, "And for the fact that I couldn't stand Bill Compton and was happy to end his short little insignificant life."

"And Bill Compton was a," the woman trailed off.

"A self-serving fraud," Isabelle informed her quickly, glaring into the camera, "An idiot of the highest category and a lying cad. It would be a lie to say that I enjoyed his company. I can tell you that I still celebrate his death. He almost ended the vampire and human race singlehandedly."

"You're awful harsh on the deceased vampire," the woman announced.

Timothy rolled his eyes at the woman's idiotic questions as he secretly wished that the female vampire with the perky breasts and beautiful bright baby blues had yet to bite into this woman.

"I won't lie about who I like and dislike or who I love and loathe entirely," Isabelle answered with a quick shrug and a simple smile.

Timothy smiled at the sassy comment. He could tell that this was a vampire that grew up with the sass meter on all the time.

"So how do you feel about the stigma with having the notorious Russell Edgington as your maker and lover?"

Timothy watched as the female vampire's brow rose ever so slightly at the question that she had been asked, she shook her head and asked, "Would you care to clarify that question?"

"What I mean is," the talking head stuttered as she looked around her, worry clearly on her face, "Your maker is known as public enemy number one. You, yourself, are seen as a villain in some circles. How does that make you feel?"

Isabelle chuckled softly at the question and shrugged her shoulders as the camera panned in close to her face, "I don't feel anything about it. I know what I do is just. Yes, I've threatened a few government rulers and figureheads, but I did it for a single purpose and that was to make the world a better place. Yes, I'm seen as a villain because of who my maker is, but I can't change who turned me. I love him more than life itself," she paused and shrugged her shoulders, "You can't control people's thoughts on you, that's like trying to control the wind or love, an impossible feat."

"Some see you as a hero," the talking head announced with a false smile, "Others see you as the Anti-Christ himself. What do you see yourself as?"

Timothy listened with slight anxiousness as he watched the vampire smile and reply, "I see myself as a vampire that's well versed in how politics is actually ran-"

"And what about the encroaching civil war? That has been a heated discussion?"

A smirk crossed Isabelle's features as she glared at the woman's interruption and replied with cold indifference, "The feud is between the Edgington and Northman family. I've done what I have to stop the loss of innocent lives. I know the effects of what mindless warfare has on family. My poor brother fought in Napoleon's war. I worried every day that he wouldn't make it. I've seen the battlefields of the Civil War. My goal in all of this," she shook her head as she spoke, "is to have the least amount of bloodshed. I don't want families torn apart."

"And that is something that you know a lot about," the woman added as she looked to the camera and away from the vampire.

"Yes," Isabelle answered quickly, "Too many to count in one lifetime."

"And Isabelle," the woman stated, "I hope this isn't too much to ask but what started all this fighting between the Edgington family and the Northman clan?"

Isabelle smiled as she replied with a smug smile, "A goat."

"Isabelle Hensley made her way through here," Mrs. Hood announced, pulling Timothy's attentions away from the news program and toward his teacher, "There is plenty of a history in the Bon Temps area. I'm sure you all have great grandparents or aunts and uncles that can recount the events that they had first handedly seen. In fact," his teacher stopped and smiled lightly, "That's your homework for tonight. Ask a relative about a story from this particular time frame and present it to the front of the class."

Ms. Hood turned the program off and turned the lights back on just as the bell rang loudly throughout the halls. It was time for everyone to go home from a long day of work and studying. Timothy sighed in annoyance audibly as he pushed himself out of his chair.

He smiled as he walked out of the school and into the bright sunlight that warmed up his skin on the chilly October day in Bon Temps, Louisiana. He knew exactly who he could talk to about Isabelle Hensley and this supposed almost civil war that had occurred not so long ago. He pulled his car keys out of his pockets as he came upon his old Chevy truck with paint chipping off of the hood. He started his old clunker and with a trusty purr he drove out of the school parking lot and to the outskirts of Bon Temps where his grandfather and his twin brother lived together in an old shack.

...

Timothy walked up to the well-worn path to his grandfather's small wooden house that looked as if it had been picked right out of a photograph from the Civil War of the 1840s and thrown into the colored world of today. Vines overtook the tin roof and small critters made their homes inside the green tangles. Trees and swamp land surrounded the small plot of land. To say that his grandfather and great uncle lived in the middle of nowhere would be a great insult to people that lived in the middle of nowhere. The nearest house was a farmhouse ten miles on the other side of the woods with empty pastures separating them.

"What you doin' here," he heard his grandfather, Frank Harbinger, announced from his wicker chair upon the wooden porch. His eyes were the same emerald green as his grandson's and his once sandy brown hair was greying and falling out in patches from a bout with cancer. His wrinkled skin was covered in old tattoos from a living his teenage years in a time when tattoos had become widely accepted and celebrated with reality television programs and competitions.

"I need to ask you a question," Timothy stated as he sat on the wooden steps and looked up at his grandfather and his uncle, Jake Harbinger, who sat beside him with his legs crossed, showing off his black socks that stopped above his shin and white, veiny skin, "Well both of you a question."

"If you want whiskey," Jake announced with a knowing smile, "If you drive me, I'll buy it."

Timothy chuckled at his old uncle, who had always been the wilder of the two Harbinger boys growing up. He was the youngest Harbinger son and the only one that had not settled down with a wife with children. He had been a tom cat bachelor for most of his life. Unlike his brother, he had brown eyes that he had inherited from his mother and a head full of thick white hair and a scruffy salt and pepper beard.

"No," he stated, "It's a project for school. I need to know what happened here in Bon Temps with the vampires, specifically Isabelle Hensley."

"You mean Mrs. Edgington," Jake answered with a smile and a sparkle in his eyes, "She was a sight for sore eyes back then 'til she went up and got herself killed."

"You met her," Timothy asked in delight. He'd have one hell of a story if his uncle had met the vampire that he had watched on the news.

"Naw," he answered, "But we were ready to fight if the time had come."

"But it never did," Frank informed him, "What makes you so interested in this all of a sudden boy?"

Timothy shrugged his shoulders as he answered, "We learned about some of it today. We watch a news program-"

"Ha," Frank announced and rolled his eyes, "I bet they didn't even get to the meat and potatoes of the story. Let me tell you something, we lived through it. I bet they didn't even cover the whole thing. Probably nothin' but dumb ol' questions like always."

"Yes sir," Timothy said with a nod of his head. "What happened? I couldn't really find anything on my phone about it; only that she helped with the new VRA."

"Well there's a lot more to it than that," Jake informed his teenage nephew, "She was more than a pair of legs, she was dangerous and she didn't take time to hide it. She did what most politicians wouldn't do and got results. She's what humans and supes needed at the time."

"She was nothin' but a lying, murderous vamper," Frank informed his brother harshly, "It was a celebrated day when she died. She killed humans for Christ's sakes. She went on air and told the world that she was a god! She only did everything 'cus that Fangtasia place up in Shreveport. That's all it was about just some feud."

"With the Northmans," Timothy asked, slightly confused at his grandfather's and uncle's different beliefs on the subject when normally they agreed on everything, "I heard it was all over a goat."

"So the story goes," Jake said, "But there's always more to the story."

"Edgington and Northman," Frank announced with a snort, "Can't say one without the other. They are only famous for killing each other."

"What happened," Timothy asked with bright eyes, "What started all this? Who were they?"

Jake chuckled as the sun started to go down over the pine trees and the frogs and crickets began their nightly orchestra.

"Your momma know you out here," Frank asked as he looked down at his grandson with a questioning eye, "It's a long story. You gonna be here for a while."

"She's at work," he informed his grandfather and then smiled as he awaited the story as if he were a young child sitting upon the porch steps waiting to hear a fantastic story about princesses, evil dragons and a prince that would save the say.

"Our story begins in France," Jake told in a serious tone as he rocked back in forth in his chair, "This story begins with a cough that would shatter the sanity of a family."

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**And there is the first chapter. I should have the next chapter up in a day or two.**

**What do you think of certain revelations that have been presented in this chapter?**


	2. Night of the Vampire

**Chapter 2: Night of the Vampire**

**Finally I have updated! I just lost the writing spirit I guess. **

**Anyways, if you have not read The Lost Child or The Loving Child, but insist on reading this anyways...don't go whining about how you don't understand what's going on...it will actually really piss me off if you do that and I will probably A)ignore your ask or B) jump down your throat (which would be really rare of me but it will depend on my mood)**

**Anyways enjoy this chapter! Also for the new character...think of Christoph Waltz because that's who I have in my head :)**

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Sterilized white walls glared back at Isabelle as she sat in the silent hospital room with Angelique, who was now a bouncy six year old when her cancer ridden body allowed her to be bouncy. Isabelle ran her long fingers over her adopted daughter's shaved head that had once been covered in beautiful long locks of shining black hair that she had inherited from Alcide's side of the family.

"Everything's going to be fine," Isabelle reassured Angelique who laid her head against Isabelle's chest and greedily took in the little warmth that remained inside of her mother's dead body. Isabelle's arms hade wrapped around Angelique in a protective manner, in hopes that this motherly attention would keep away the horrible news that they could receive.

"I'm not afraid Momma," Angelique whispered as she looked up at the vampire that she called her mother. Her voice had hint of a French accent from many lessons with the French tutor that Isabelle and Russell had hired together when she had turned five, an age that they both found suitable to start off with education.

"I wish I could help you," Isabelle whispered as she stood beside her adopted daughter and hugged her tightly, "I'd give my life to stop the pain that you feel every day."

"Momma," the young girl looked up at Isabelle with a sparkle in her bright green eyes that were unfortunately surrounded by black circles from the lack of sleep that she had suffered from the very day that she had been diagnosed.

"What is it," Isabelle asked, looking down at Angelique.

"I don't want you to be sad," the young wolf girl whispered as she leaned into her mother's sleek body, "I want you to be happy."

"I am happy sweetie," Isabelle lied as she pasted a fake smile upon her painted lips and looked over her young wolf child, "Just as happy as you are when the moon is full."

"Where is Steve," Angelique asked as she looked around the empty, germ free room. "Didn't he say he was coming?"

"He went out for dinner," she whispered, "It's my turning day so he wanted to get me something special."

"Will I have a turning day?"

"No dear," Isabelle whispered as she looked up to the clock. Time seemed to move slower and slower as she waited for the doctor to walk in and deliver the news that they had been nervously waiting for. Her hands shook in mixed emotions of fear, anxiety, and apprehension.

"Why not?"

Isabelle let a soft smile cross her features as she looked over her young daughter and replied, "Because werewolves cannot be turned."

"Well I wish I could be-"

"Mrs. Edgington," the door opened and an elderly, balding man stood within the door frame in a white coat with the name **JOHN HOPKINS** stitched over his heart along with a string of letters that showed just how great he was within the world of fighting cancer, "Can I speak with you in private?"

Cold fear rushed over Isabelle's pale body at the doctor's words. She looked down to Angelique and nodded as she turned back to look at the elderly doctor.

"Can someone stay with her," she asked as she felt a sudden numbness take over her body in order to prepare for the worst possible news, news that she had hoped would not come true at all.

"Of course," the doctor answered and called down the hall for a nurse to stand with the young werewolf girl. Isabelle smiled as she watched the nurse give them both a soft smile in order to make her child for safe and comfortable around her.

"Please, Mrs. Edgington," the doctor whispered as he waved for her to leave the room, "My office is this way."

She did was the doctor asked and felt the weight of the world begin to crush down on her shoulders. She had wished Russell would have come to help her with this appointment, but he wanted to pretend like nothing was wrong with the girl that his own child had adopted.

"Have a seat," the doctor said kindly as he closed the office door behind him as they both walked into his private office.

"Please tell me that she's going to be fine," Isabelle begged as she sat on edge in the chair, her fear was evident by how her eyes gazed at his, how her lips sat in a perfect frown, and her knuckles paled from the apprehension that resided inside of her body, "Please tell me that all this worked and that it's gone forever."

She watched as the elderly man sat down and sighed in his leather chair, "I can't tell you that Mrs. Edgington."

Her mouth dropped and an almost animal-like sound escaped her mouth as she tried to keep the sobs from escaping her and the tears to stain her face in front of the doctor.

"If we could have caught it earlier," he whispered as he shook his head, "Maybe we could have stopped it in time."

Isabelle looked toward the closed door and shook her head, wishing that she could go back and take Angelique to the doctor way before she had even developed the cough that never escaped her small child body.

"How lo," she stopped, unable to form the rest of her sentence as a hard lump caught in her throat. She shook her head and turned to look at the doctor with dark, sad eyes, "How long does she have?"

She had never thought that she would have to say that about one of her baby werewolf children. She had come accustomed to watching them fade away into death, but they were old when their time came around instead of being young, frail creatures placed into a violent world that they would eventually learn to live within.

"The cancer has moved into her bones," the doctor answered, "I'd say that she has about a 5 year survival rate, but that would be stretching it."

Red tears built up on the outer corners of Isabelle's eyes as she processed the diagnosis that the doctor had just relayed to her.

"Five years," she whispered in anguish, "I only have five years with my child left? Is there anything that I can do? My blood, it could-"

"No," he answered quickly in a frank tone, "We have already done so much research on the effects of vampire blood and cancer. It's too late Isabelle."

"What do I tell her," Isabelle asked as she looked at the doctor with a pleading sadness in her eyes, "I can't just tell her that she better go out and live because she's going to die before she becomes a teenager."

"Angelique," the doctor said softly, "is a strong girl. Just live with her," he gave her a soft smile and stood from his desk to kneel beside her, he grabbed her cold hand in his warm hand as he gazed into her blue eyes and added, "Make her life happy. But in the meantime, we can still go one with treatments if you want."

Isabelle shook her head as she pulled her hand out of Dr. Hopkins' hand and wiped the fallen tears away. She looked up at the clock and shook her head.

"I should be going," she whispered, "The sun will be up soon."

"Of course," Hopkins answered, "I'll have my nurse call you with the details for what course of action we will start next and to set up the next appointment," he gave her a soft smile as he watched her slowly walk towards the door, "And don't worry, Mrs. Edgington, we will take care of all the other necessities. You just spend time with Angelique."

She nodded as she looked to the floor and took a deep breath as she forced herself to walk down the long hallway that seemed to get longer and longer with each step that she made. She could feel the pain burning inside of her chest as she came to a stop in front of the door where Angelique sat patiently with the nurse. She could hear them giggling over some corny joke that Angelique had learned from a joke book that Steve had given her weeks ago.

With swallowed sadness, she opened the door and forced a smile upon her face as she took in her beautiful little girl that she had helped bring into the world so long ago.

"What the doctor say Mom," Angelique asked happily.

She cleared her throat as she walked into the room and grabbed her daughter's clothes to help her dress out of her hospital gown. She hurriedly pulled the gown off of Angelique's small body and helped her with her long red sweater.

"Well?"

"He said everything is just fine sweetheart," Isabelle lied with a smile plastered upon her pale face as she helped button the girl's denim jeans that were decorated with butterflies stitched into the fabric.

"That's great," she answered as she showed Isabelle her phone that she had left behind, "Steve texted you. He said that he will be in the barn with your present. Can I come with you to see your present?"

"No Angelique," Isabelle said harshly in anger and annoyance from the girl's happy demeanor that she wished desperately that she could steal from her.

She watched in slight panic as her daughter backed away from her slightly from her sudden outburst of anger. She shook her head and fell to her knees as she placed her hands upon Angelique's shoulders.

"I am so sorry," Isabelle whispered as she looked into the wolf girl's green eyes, "I didn't mean to hiss at you. Forgive me?"

Angelique looked up at her mother and nodded in understanding.

"I am just really tired," she revealed to her daughter.

"Yeah, Daddy said you haven't slept in days," Angelique whispered, referring to Russell.

"Right," Isabelle whispered as she stood back upon her feet and picked her light daughter up from the floor, "It's cold outside so we need to hurry and get you inside."

...

Steve smiled as he looked over Jason who was tying the young woman up with heavy metal chains to a cross shaped wooden pole inside of the barn. Horses whinnied in slight fear as the young woman tried to scream with duct tape placed upon her lips. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to jerk away from the metal bonds around her wrists and ankles.

"What you want me to do now," Jason's thick Southern accent asked as he looked over to the vampire that had exclaimed his love to him so long ago.

"I want you to keep watch Jason," Steve answered slowly for his words to seep into the hypnotized man's mind.

"Oh okay," Jason answered obediently as he stood beside the woman that sobbed in front of him. Her tears stained her red cheeks as fear moved over her body.

"Oh," Steve announced sympathetically as he moved toward the blonde haired woman, "You shouldn't be too upset about this," he smiled as he moved a strand of her hair that had stuck to her wet cheeks behind her ear, "You knew this would happen sooner or later. You practically reek of that child you killed a few weeks ago."

The woman's eyes widened at his knowing words.

"See," Steve answered with a smile on his face and a shrug of his shoulders, "I have been lookin' for the perfect present for my maker," he chuckled, "and when I saw you run over that poor child with your car...well I knew then that you were the perfect present for my maker."

The woman's scream was muffled as Steve moved closer to her with his long fangs bared in a successful attempt to terrorize her.

Steve quickly moved away from her with a flourish and smiled as walked toward the double doors to leave the barn, "It's so easy that you almost feel sorry for them."

...

Tara stood alone in the darkened indoor public swimming pool where she had come to exercise and remove the stress of the day. She had grown tired of Pam's and Eric's worries over the Edgington family coming back into Louisiana to take vengeance upon them. Though if truth were to be told, Tara and Pam had every right to go on the war path to find that Isabelle whore and plunge a stake through her blackened heart, but Eric had forbade it for some ungodly reason that neither she nor Pam could explain.

It had been a year since Isabelle had went on TV in the same manner that Russell had done before to make her threats of war, nothing had been heard of. No one had seen the Edgington clan. Where ever they were hiding, it was a good place.

And Jason?

They hadn't heard anything about Jason. Not a single word of his whereabouts. For all they knew, he could have been drained by Russell and Steve Newlin. A pang in her heart radiated throughout her body as she thought of the boy that she had once had a huge crush upon. He had been one of the few men in her life that had actually stuck up for her and helped her with problems that she had faced in her human life.

The clear, blue, chlorine water of the pool lapped lightly against the concrete sides of the inside pool. She smiled as she placed a cigarette in between her lips and took a long drag off of it in hopes to calming her nerves.

A sound from behind her, a sound that resembled someone tripping over something. She turned quickly to see that no one was around or entering the pool area. She shrugged her shoulders as she pulled the cigarette from her mouth and flicked the ashes to the ground just as she turned around.

"Hello," a long forgotten male voice announced in front of her as he slapped the cigarette from her hands, "Don't you know these things will kill you, Tara?"

Her eyes turned as big as saucers as she took in her rapists' dark outfit that resembled the same type of clothes that he had worn the same day that Jason Stackhouse had shot him through the heart. Franklin Motts stood in front of her, as handsome and insane as ever, with a crooked smile upon his face.

"What," he asked with a smile as he took in her shocked expression, "No hug for your old friend," he shrugged his shoulders and added, "Let's get down to business shall we?"

Tara moved quickly as Franklin lunged toward her. Franklin stopped short of falling to the ground as Tara appeared behind him, lifting her leg to roundhouse kick him, but he moved quicker than her from being many years older than her.

He slammed her to the tiled ground with a loud bang and smiled down at her with his long, viper like fangs protruding from his pink gums as he lay above her.

"All the familiar places, isn't that right love," he announced with a wicked chuckle as he looked down upon her pearly white baby fangs, "Aww, now how about we put the baby fangs away and give us a kiss for old time's sack."

She shook her head as she glared into his dark eyes. The smell of dirt, death, and fresh blood radiated from his body as he lay on top of her.

"You're dead," she whispered.

"Was," he announced with a chuckle, "But I was made in my new maker's image…and your little Viking grandfather is making it very hard for him to find my little momma. So," he allowed his words to echo within the walls of the empty pool room as a wicked smile came over his face, "Where is Isabelle?"

She shook her head at him as she tried to push him off of her. He chuckled at her as he glared down at her. He was keeping his patience intact as he felt the woman that he had once loved shoving against his chest in repulsion.

"Oh," he announced as if he were talking to a child, "Come on now, Tara. You don't want to do this the hard way do you?"

"I don't know where she is," Tara blurted out as she glared up at him, "Your momma is a little bitch!"

Franklin felt the rage bubble through him at her venomous words and allowed himself to lose control momentarily as he picked her up from the ground and threw her violently into the swimming pool. Water splashed onto the tiled floor as she fell beneath the cold water and sunk to the very bottom before emerging quickly.

She gasped as in fear as she looked around the pool to see Franklin kneeling at the side of the pool, looking down at her with dark brown eyes that were filled with anger.

"You'll tell your grandfather for me," he announced with a wicked smile, "that I'm lookin' for my mother, won't you?"

Fear bubbled inside of Tara as she glared up at the man that had caused her so many nightmares in her human life. She had thought that he had gone forever and that she could live her vampire life in peace. Pam had lied when she said that no one could hurt her ever again…Franklin Motts had the power to hurt her by just a look or a simple reminder of what had happened in Jackson, Mississippi.

"Tara," he purred seductively with a smile as he watched her arms flap around her in an attempt to keep her head above water.

"Yes," she answered quickly with a nod, "I'll tell him."

"Good," he announced with a clap of his hands, "It'd be a damned shame if I'd have to give you the truth death."

He winked at her as he watched her bottom lip quiver at his threat, "I'll be seeing ya Tara."

She watched as dread filled her as she watched him quickly leave the empty pool house and enter into the dark to go deliver whatever hell to whoever crossed his path.

...

He stood with a bored look upon his face as he listened to these rulers of the world discussing this one female vampire's threat that had been announced a year ago. His jaw was sharp, as if someone could cut their hand upon his jawline if they had dared tried to punch him. His brown eyes held knowledge that no other creature alive on this floating rock called Earth could possess. His hair was thick and brown, with traces of silver lining his short sideburns and the curls on his neck. He sat in a bored manner as he listened to the humans talk of strategies that were doomed to fail and played with a silver bracelet that he had stolen from a Jewess girl in the concentration camps years ago.

Hans Gottschalk was a handsome vampire that had been brought into this meeting with the task of finding the two Edgington vampires and bringing them in for swift justice by the firing squad. It had been made clear by the previous threat that the now diminished Sanguinistas, thank to Isabelle, that no vampire would rise up and threaten the world order as the Sanguinistas tried. A vampire that tried would be given a guilty verdict of treason and acts against humanity without a fair trial then put to a quick death.

He smiled as he listened to the worried men and women speak.

"Hans," a political leader from the UK announced, "you can guarantee us the catching of Isabelle and Russell Edgington, can you not?"

"Well," Hans announced in a thick Austrian accent that he had acquired from centuries of living within the borders of Austria and waving his hands in front of him as he leaned lazily back in his chair with all eyes on him, "of course I can. I am one of the best trackers that there is," he smiled as he pointed toward the man that had asked him the original question, "Vampires being my specialty."

"And you can bring them in alive?"

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled as he replied in a matter of fact manner, "It's a crime for a vampire to kill another vampire."

"Then it is settled," the American leader announced with a slap on the table, "Hans, you will be given the task of bringing in Isabelle alive."

"And what about Russell," Hans asked as he glared at the leader of the free world. He had to suppress a smile at that term. 'Leader of the Free World' if there was ever a more funny title, he hadn't heard of it and he had lived a very long, long time.

"We don't care much about him," another voice from beside him popped up, a British man with a receding hairline and a slightly growing belly from one too many cakes announce, "We want the girl."

Hans shrugged his shoulder and allowed a sarcastic grin cross his strong features as he replied, "Then the girl is who you will get."

The small group stood just as Hans stood to leave. Each one of the prominent leaders coming up to him and shaking his hands, wishing him good luck on his hunt, as they passed through the doors to leave the secret meeting area.

"No worries," he announced with a smile, "I will hunt them down like the rats that they are, you have my word."

"Thank you," the British man announced as he placed his hand upon Hans' shoulder and walked him toward the door, "The whole world is counting on your hunting skills. Don't let us down."

"Don't worry," Hans answered with a knowing smile on his face, "I know how these vampires think. I know where they like to hide. I'll have your girl by the end of the month or you have my permission to stake me in the heart."

* * *

**So Franklin is back! How was he brought back?**

**Guesses? Thoughts? **

**Reviews make me unbelievable happy! Especially long ones that explain to me what you think will happen :)**


	3. The New Deal

**Chapter 3: The New Deal**

**I know, long time no see, I've just hit a wall here lately on writing. But here is chapter three. I won't ever give up on my Edgington series :)**

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Isabelle carried her sleeping daughter in her arms. She could hear Angelique's soft patter of her heart beating strong in her chest. She could smell the death that was growing inside the young girl's body, and with each breath Angelique took, Isabelle fought the need to allow her built up sorrow to escape her like water escaping from an overbearing dam. The young girl snored softly in her arms, craving warmth that her cold, dead body just couldn't afford to give.

"What did the doctor say," an elderly French werewolf woman asked in a hurried yet hushed voice. Her name was Annette Lup and she reeked with the smell of the rapidly changing 1960s teenager that she had been upon her body that seemed to stick to her like a hungry tick on a wild dog. Her hair was dark brown but riddled with grey hairs. In her wolf form, she was a beautiful russet and white wolf with strong muscles and the brightest yellow eyes that Isabelle had only seen on a few werewolves in her many lifetimes.

Isabelle looked to the floor as the woman pulled the young were-girl into her arms, struggling to pull the strong girl's clinging arms from her adoptive vampire mother.

"She doesn't have long," Isabelle whispered so softly that she thought Annette had not heard her, though she was mistaken, the woman did hear but kept her eyes downcast from the heavy hearted vampire, "Take her to her room, please. See that she takes a bath first thing in the morning, please Annette."

"Yes mam," she replied curtly and waddled up the varnished mahogany stairs with the child in her arms.

Isabelle sighed as she forced herself to walk up each wooden stair, each step seemed to bring her further and further towards the edge as if she were reliving that morning without Russell once again, the pain was just as great. She was losing, yet again, another child. Her heart wished for death to take her away every time her great loves were ripped out of her grasp and thrown into oblivion.

"Belle," she heard the happy voice of her child announce, "I got you a present! Come see!"

She turned to see Steve standing at the bottom of the stairs. His white skin reflected the deep red wine and soft cream colors that painted the walls of their strong, well-guarded home that they had resided in since they revealed to the world that Russell Edgington was indeed alive. She smiled softly as she looked at his slightly shaggy hair and bright eyes as he looked up at her. He wore a forest green dress shirt with a simple black jacket over the expensive fabric that Russell had acquired for him some time ago on one of their dates while she had been busy with the a sick werewolf child.

"Are you coming," he said happily as he watched her continue to walk up the stairs with her head held uncharacteristically low and her shoulders sagged low.

"Not tonight Steve," she whispered with a soft sadness painted within her words, "I have had a very trying day."

"But I went through so much-"

"What's going on," Russell asked quizzically as he walked out of his study, wearing a dark grey smoking jacket and dark trousers. The letters R and E were monogrammed in cursive upon his breast pocket in silver colored letters and seemed to disappear into the small details that moved throughout the jacket's design.

"I just don't know," Steve answered as he watched Isabelle continue walking up the stairs and into her bedroom down the hall. She closed the cream painted door with a soft thud and allowed the two men to be alone once more.

"I got her this great gift and she just…I don't know what to do," Steve said with hopeless confusion in his voice, "I've tried to make her happy, but what with Angel being sick and all, it's like she doesn't want to be happy."

"Sh, sh, sh," Russell calmed him with a soft, comforting smile as he placed his hands comfortingly upon his grandchild and sometimes lover. He watched with inquisitive hazel eyes as the young vampire shook his head in sadness.

"You've gotta talk to her Russell," he begged, "She isn't right, right now."

Russell tapped his index fingers upon the young vampire's shoulders, "You just go on out there and I'll take care of her."

Steve shook his head at his lover's words and replied, "She's not going to-"

"Go on, Steve," Russell demanded with a kind smile and rough edged words, "I've known how to deal with Isabelle for over two hundred years. Go on now."

Steve lowered his eyes as he did as his lover bid. He hurried out of the foyer and into the dark night where his present to Isabelle stood tied to a post.

Russell moved quickly to her bedroom and lightly knocked upon the bedroom door where Isabelle hid behind with her secret desires that only he were given the pleasure of observing. He opened the door and kept his smile hidden as he watched her stare up at the dark sky that twinkled with star light above them.

"I knew," he heard her whisper so softly that only a vampire's ears were to be gifted with her words, she turned to him with blood catching in her dark lower lashes, "I knew she was sick. I just hoped that I was wrong at just how sick she really was."

He kept quit as he watched her long pale fingers move over her forehead as she tried to calm herself down. He had known from the beginning that the young werewolf girl would not survive. He just never had the heart to tell his beloved child. Russell moved with quick sped to her side and placed his hands around her waist, his hands laid atop her midsection where, in her human life, she would have grew a tumor that would become a human baby. He softly kissed the crook of her neck as he felt her take a deep breath. Her body was stressed in his arms, but it was slowly becoming softer in his grasp as she was letting her maker comfort her in a way that he had neglected for some time.

"To think that this all started from a little cough," she whispered as she leaned into her maker's comforting touch, "I thought the flu had come to try and steal her away from me like it had done my family," she choked back the lump that was growing in her throat and a sad chuckle escaped her as she turned to look Russell in the eyes, "and to know now that it is an incurable cancer, well," she shook her head, "isn't that a kick in the pants."

Russell leaned into his child as he placed his hands upon her arms. He placed a soft kiss upon her forehead as Isabelle closed her eyes and allowed his arms to take over her and pull her into a much needed hug.

"I can't do this anymore Russell," she revealed softly.

"Just for a little while longer my little beauty," he whispered into her ear as he leaned his head against hers and held her tightly in his arms.

...

Tara quickly walked into Fangtasia where Pam was looking around the empty bar with what seemed to be anger in her eyes as she looked around what they had worked so hard in rebuilding only to have it taken from them once again with the new law that the governor had put into place. No vampire run establishment was allowed to exist in this time after the Authority's plans were revealed. The world of the vampire was falling around all vampire kind in this new time. There was no one on their side except for some money hungry based group of humans called Humans For Vampires Group that actually permitted the extermination of many, many vampires. The photos had been leaked on more than one occasion.

"What's wrong with you," Pam's harsh voice asked as she turned to see Tara's shaking body. Pam hurried to her side to look her over, "You don't look hurt."

Tara swallowed the fear that had filled her. With Franklin Motts and Russell Edgington running around in this world, it was not safe for anyone on this planet.

"Franklin is alive," she stated in a matter of fact tone, deciding to not beat around the bush with her maker.

"What," Eric asked as he appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, his hand was on Tara's arm as he looked down on her dark skin.

"I said Franklin is alive," she added, this time in a harsh town as she looked at her maker's maker who held on to her with a tight grip.

"What do you mean he's alive," Eric asked in a confused tone. "You told me Jason Stackhouse gave him the true death."

"Yeah well now he's back and kickin'," Tara informed Eric.

"What does he want," Eric asked as he recalled seeing the deranged vampire in Jackson, Mississippi so long ago when everything went to Hell in a hand basket for him.

"Isabelle," Tara answered quickly as she jerked herself out of his grasp, "He wants to know where his momma is that's what he said."

"She didn't bring him back," Eric asked as he looked away from Tara as confusion took over his mind.

"He said he was made in his new maker's image," Tara informed him.

"Eric," Pam asked as she turned to him with concern in her eyes as she watched her maker pace away from the two vampires, "That uppity cunt will come back if she knows he's alive," she watched as Eric pulled out his cell phone and quickly typed out a text message, "Eric, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take care of this," Eric informed Pam as he pushed past her only to be quickly followed by his child.

"Just leave this alone," Pam begged, "What's that French bitch going to do when she comes after you," she stopped quickly as her maker hurried out of the bar, leaving her behind once again, "Where are you going?"

There was no answer as the door slammed to a close behind him. Pam felt hot tears of fear and anger rush out of her eyes as she looked at the closed door where her lover and maker had escaped through.

"Asshole," Tara whispered under her breath as she watched her maker trying to stand tall and pretend as if she were not hurt by Eric's sudden escape and lack of words. It was becoming a common sight for Tara to see between the two long time lovers. She hated to admit it, but Sookie, her once best friend, was the main cause for the fights, but now a stronger threat against the Northman clan loomed in the distance.

...

Isabelle walked into the old barn where Steve awaited with her present. Russell stayed behind, sleeping in her bed. She smiled as she tied her white silk robe tight around her slim body as she walked into the stable to see a woman standing against tied against a pole, a familiar scene that she had only seen once in her human life when her brother had been tied in the same position.

"Happy birthday," Steve announced with a smile as he watched Isabelle's eyes move over the bleeding woman. The tied woman smelled of vile deeds done in back alleyways as her head lay low from the blood loss.

"Steve," Isabelle whispered as she forced a smile upon her face. The idea of a gift like this was somewhat disgusting to her, but she knew that she could not hurt her child any more than she had already done in the past. She had promised him that she would try to be a better maker and mother to him than she had been.

"Do you like it," Steve asked in excitement as he held his hands tightly together, "I searched for the perfect one for so long."

"She's perfect," Isabelle whispered as she moved in front of the girl who stood in front of her helpless. Isabelle's long fingers moved to push the hair out of the woman's eyes and away from her long swan like neck to reveal a throbbing artery underneath.

Isabelle's fangs dropped as she touched the woman's warm skin. Her fingers traced the woman's neckline and then smiled over to her child.

"Join me Steve," she demanded as she reached out to him with a large fanged smile upon her lips. She smiled in glee as she watched Steve hurriedly bite into the woman's wrist. Isabelle chuckled just before she plunged her fangs deep into the woman's neck. She reveled in the woman's pain. Another's pain helped her deal with the pain that she was still feeling deep within her from the knowledge that she had gained that night. Hot blood poured down the woman's neck as she took in her meal.

"Stop," a new voice announced from behind her. The voice carried a distinct Dublin quality to it that she had not heard in quite some time. Isabelle jerked quickly away from the young woman's neck to see a man standing in the door frame. Fear was visible upon the man as she gave him a comforting smile. Her brow lifted as she took him in. He had deep brown eyes and short brunette hair. She smelled the air and quickly moved behind him with her vampire speed and wrapped her arms around his toned body.

She sniffed his neck and smiled as she felt him jerking away from her, "You smell so innocent. It would be a shame to drain you dry."

"Please," he begged as he stiffened against her tight grasp, there was no point in him fighting against a creature that could kill him with a flick of her wrist, "Let her go."

"And why is that," Isabelle teased as she looked down on his rather rumpled street clothes.

"She's my sister," he begged, "She has a family. Two kids at home. She has to be there for them."

Isabelle's grip loosened slightly, but not enough for him to escape her grasp. Thoughts of her brother moved through her mind at his words that took her to a different time, a time when she held the same innocence inside of her that he held within him.

"And what would you give me to let your sister live," she asked as she looked over to her child, "My dear child gave me this as a present."

"Let me take her place!"

Isabelle smiled as she pulled him to turn and look at her and said with a chuckle, "Sounds like a deal," her eyes jerked away from the human's dark brown ones and met with Steve's, "Let her go Steve."

"But," Steve started to say as he looked over at his maker who was now pulling the human male towards the large mansion. He was left alone to get rid of the feverish girl that he and his maker had been feeding on. He could just easily drain her himself and then drop her body into a nearby water source, but Isabelle clearly wanted her left alive. He would always, in the end, do what she said even if she had released him.

...

Isabelle smiled as she pulled him into the house and into the study. The smell of his innocence drove her to the brink. It had been so long since she had taken what she wanted from a human and this human's smell seemed to beg her to take a long, drag off of his blood.

She shoved the young man into the couch and she stood beside the fire that still burned from when Russell had been hiding away. The fire cackled as she stared at the fine young man. He smelled of expensive cologne.

"What is your name," she demanded with a soft smile, her fangs hidden from him, "And please don't lie. You will be my slave for a long time and I would like to call you by your real name."

The young man swallowed back his fear and asked, "Are you going to kill me?"

"Your name please, sir," she demanded with a dangerous low growl in her voice as she glared at him.

"Uhm," he swallowed back the lump that was forming in his throat, "James…James Byrne," his eyes shifted to her and took her in, realization came over his face, "You're Isabelle aren't you? Russell Edgington's child, you brought him back."

"Now that introductions are over," she announced as her fangs fell from their hiding place, "Tell me James, where is your family from?"

"Dublin," he answered quickly as he watched her sharp eyes look over him. He felt like a piece of meat left out for a hungry leopard to eat on.

"Thank you James."

He took a deep breath as he watched the woman smile at him softly. The fear that he was feeling before was slowly receding at the soft smile that the woman was giving him. A wolf howling in the background filled the room.

"You must forgive them," she informed him with a smile, "You'll become accustomed to it. Sort of have to have them around for protection what with all these anti-vampire groups popping up everywhere."

"Are you going to kill me," James heard himself ask.

Isabelle smiled at his question and asked her own, "Are you going to try and kill me as I lay sleeping during the day?"

"No," he answered, "You let my sister go free. A deal is a deal."

"Good," she announced with a smile as she looked over him. A chuckle escaped her as she moved in a flash and wrapped her hands around his neck and sunk her teeth deeply into his neck. Blood flowed freely from him and into her mouth. She smiled as he struggled under her as she drained him to the point of exhaustion.

She smiled as she pulled from his neck and looked down at his paling body.

"Now my dear boy," she whispered, "I can let you die or you can live. You get to choose."

His dreary dark brown eyes looked up at her and watched as she bit into her wrist to allow blood to fall upon his trembling lips.

Isabelle smiled as she watched his lips open slowly to allow her blood to flow down his throat. She watched as he forced his hand upwards to grasp onto her wrist with his mouth to selfishly take in what was hers.

"At a boy," she whispered with a smile, "That's a good little-"

Her phone rang inside of her pocket, interrupting her taking control of another living being. She jerked her hand away from the human male and watched as his eyes closed in a deep sleep. She pulled her old cell phone from the pocket of her robe and smiled as she looked at the name of her sender.

"Good night my little dove," she whispered to her human victim as she walked out of the study to read the message in private.

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**So notice the parallels? What do you think? Isabelle is going to go through lots of changes in this story. She's not going to be the same person that she's been for over 200 years anymore. Something big will happen to change her.**

**What do you think?**


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